Cannes Report: Fine Whines from France
Gorgeous weather, wonderful films and an endless supply of champagne bring out the catty in people. Who knew, right? Yes, there has been a lot of bickering at Cannes this week. Here, the moans and groans that matter right now.
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Damn Ink-Stained Wretches! I wish I had been at the press conference where Joel Coen, Ethan Coen, Alejandro González Iñárritu and a bunch of other directors sat alongside Roman Polanski. It was just your usual journo meeting. But then Polanski blew a gasket. He went off. Omigod, what a rant. "It's a shame to have such poor questions, such empty questions," he lamented. "And I think that it's really the computer which has brought you down to this level. You're no longer interested in what's going on in the cinema. Frankly, let's all go and have lunch.” I’m so mixed up about this hissy fit. And mind you, that’s what it was; Polanski stormed out of the room after his speech. On the one hand, apparently our kindergarten teachers totally lied—there are stupid questions. But on the other hand, we journalizers are just doing our job. Sometimes we have to ask stupid questions.
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Damn Paparazzi! Bubblefest Pamela Anderson did not make any friends in the French press when she tore a page from the Lindsay Lohan Book of Passive-Aggressive Attention Seeking. She showed up an hour late for a photo call. And then she reportedly lasted under the lens for about two seconds. As she left, the photographers booed.
Oh, Pam. You're you! You wear hot pants, and you're promoting a movie called Blonde and Blonder. You pal around with Denise Richards. You should just feel happy that you're not dealing with some disastrous home video, like fellow Baywatch vet David Hasselhoff. Hey, at least you have a real movie to promote. It's time to stop pouting and start schmoozing with Leonardo DiCaprio. You guys both love planet Earth. Maybe you could, like, save it together? Or at least get a good photo op.
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Damn Bee Suit! This is a fun one. I mean, you have to love Jerry Seinfeld. Imagine being that successful, that talented, and still you have to float onto land in a suffocating bee costume to get your movie some lovin’. Jerry made a few good cracks about the suit. And that’s my kind of whining.
Damn Billy Zane! He stars in Fishtales with his fiancée, Kelly Brook. Think Splash—mermaid meets man—without Tom Hanks or Daryl Hannah. In other words, think ouch. They say it’s so bad people were leaving mid-movie, laughing on the way out. And nobody is giving Billy the benefit of the doubt. Here’s why. After Titanic, boyfriend had the world on a silver platter. I hear he’s, um, how you say...headstrong. As in, he doesn’t take advice. It’s too bad. He has such charisma, you know? I say let’s not bitch about him. Let’s instead hope that a few boos makes Billy rethink his big ego.




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